


Something Old, Something New

by inmydreams



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Engagement, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Murder Mystery, Romance, Weddings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2015-07-28
Packaged: 2018-04-11 09:46:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4430588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inmydreams/pseuds/inmydreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greg Lestrade and Mycroft Holmes are happily engaged and planning their wedding whilst trying to keep up with the demands of both their  jobs. Yet when their working lives begin to overlap they are forced to question how to balance their private lives with their public lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A missed date

**Author's Note:**

> I have always loved reading this pairing and this is my first attempt at writing it so any feedback/ advice you have would be really helpful :)

It was rather nice being engaged, Lestrade decided. The security in knowing that this was it, that someone loved you enough to want to spend the rest of their life with you. The growing intimacy as you could begin to relax with each other, knowing that they loved you just as you loved them. Then again he couldn’t remember it ever being like this the first time, not with the former Mrs Lestrade now known as Mrs Wells. Then it had been trying to escape the house to get rid of wedding planning, making up excuses to avoid suit fittings and spending late nights at the office when table decorations should be being chosen. Perhaps he should have guessed then that something was wrong. Now though, he was nearly fifty but he was experiencing it at last, the excitement of getting engaged. He supposed then that the real excitement came from the person you were engaged to. That was it then, he was excited about being engaged to Mycroft Holmes. He still couldn’t believe his luck; that he could get someone as stylish and cultured as Mr Holmes but it had happened and he couldn’t be more content with life.

“Detective Inspector, there’s been a murder. A body’s been found outside a pub in south London.”

Well, perhaps he could be more content with life. He was supposed to be meeting his fiancée for dinner, fiancée- how he loved that word, and now it seemed as though he’d have to be fashionably late. As he followed Sally into a police car he took out his phone.

‘Sorry. Just been called to a crime scene so may be late. I’ll be as quick as I can. X’

“Right, what have we got here?” He asked the local detective who had discovered the body.

“I found him lying by the side of the road, just as he is now. Thought it was just some drunk at first, as we’re not far from the Carpenters Arms.” He needlessly gestured to a pub about twenty feet away as though a detective of Scotland Yard who had been solving intricate murders for years would fail to spot a pub directly opposite him. “Well I couldn’t leave him right next to the road, even though I thought he’d brought it on himself, so I went over and shouted a bit, trying to get him to wake up. Of course at that point I didn’t realise he was dead. Quite a shock it was when I turned him over and I saw all…”

“You moved him?” Greg asked, annoyed at the man’s monologue and his lack of respect for any evidence. “But I thought you said that this was how you found him.”

“Well more or less. I was getting annoyed that he wasn’t waking so I shook him on the shoulder and when I turned him around I saw all this blood. Gave me quite a shock I don’t mind telling you. I’ve seen a fair amount of pub brawls in my time but this…”

He trailed off which Gregory found a great relief. He wanted to get this job over with as soon as possible, there was nothing to better get you out of a romantic mood than a battered corpse. 

‘What am I thinking?’ He paused looking at the body in front of him. ‘A poor man is beaten to death and I’m upset that I’m running late for a dinner with Mycroft.’ Getting closer to the body he continued questioning the local constable.

“Has there been any identification of the body?”

“No, no. With his face battered like that how could you recognise him?” The constable was looking at him as though he was being obtuse.

“Is there any form of identification on the body? Anyone of a similar height and build been reported missing?” He spoke, trying to keep the irritation in his voice to a minimum.

“I don’t rightly know. I suppose I could check if you like, if you think there’ll be anything in it.” He replied.

Inhaling deeply Lestrade took a moment to remember that this policeman had probably never had to deal with a murder before, he most likely spent his life directing traffic and dealing with drunks. It wasn’t his fault that the initial procedures hadn’t been undertaken.

“No it’s all right. I’ll get my team to deal with it immediately.”

As he worked his way around the scene he heard his phone buzz in his pocket. Picking it up he saw that he had received a new text from Mycroft.

‘Don’t worry. Can reschedule reservations. A car will pick you up when you are finished. MH’

He felt a warm glow at the text. He had long since given up questioning how his fiancée knew where he was or was able to predict exactly when he’d finish. Life was a lot simpler that way. Instead he carried on with his examination of the body.

A young male, muscular build, beaten either by hands or a blunt weapon, several cuts and bruises on his arms, most damage done to his face and arms, stench of alcohol off the body. It certainly seemed like the victim of a drunken brawl whose assailant had panicked and dragged the body to the side of the road where it could lie undiscovered for a while. The mud on the back of the shoes certainly supported this theory. 

Transport eventually arrived to take the body to the morgue where further examinations could take place. Until then though there was little that could be done. No identification could be found on the body and no reports had been made of anyone of a similar build gone missing. 

Whilst he was examining the grass where the victim had been sprawled and debating whether there was anything further he could do a black car pulled up to the edge of the crime scene. He guessed that was his cue to leave, although how Mycroft new his work for the night was finished, before he himself did, was still a mystery to him.  
He walked over to the car as one of the rear windows was rolled down and the head of his partner appeared.

“Gregory, do get in, you must be frightfully cold.” He realised he was, although he hadn’t noticed it before.

“Hello love,” he leaned over to give his fiancée a kiss as he sat down. “I’m sorry I mucked up our dinner plans.”

“No apologies are necessary my dear, we both know that work comes first. Was the visit productive?” He asked delicately, watching the man beside him carefully for any sign of distress.

“Maybe, it seems to be leaning towards a pub brawl gone too far. Only trouble is we have made no progress in identifying the victim, let alone the attacker.”

“Did the local police have no leads?” Lestrade laughed rather bitterly at this.

“They hadn’t done any of the preliminary checks. The constable I spoke to even admitted to moving the body- a child could have told you that destroys the evidence. “

“I have given up being surprised at the lack of common sense some fully grown adults possess.” His fiancé replied dryly. Greg looked over at the other man and gave him a small smile.

“Maybe this is my chance to see what life is like for you? Being surrounded by, what did say- goldfish?”

“Gregory my dear, that was a long time ago. Whilst I admit possessing a larger than average intelligence does lead to a level of frustration at dealing with others who are not so blessed I had no intention of sullying the entirety of the population with that description. I spend most of my life surrounded by highly intelligent individuals. Many of my colleagues are highly intellectual, my brother and the rest of my family, and my fiancee is a detective inspector at Scotland Yard. How I like to slip that into a conversation.” 

“Yes, I am sure her majesty’s government would be very impressed.”

“You underestimate yourself Gregory, you always have. To rise to the ranks of Detective Inspector of Scotland Yard is no small challenge and shows no small intellect.” Lestrade blushed and looked down. He knew how much it meant if a Holmes complimented anyone on their intellect. His stomach rumbled giving him an excuse to quickly change the subject.

“I’m sorry again I made you miss dinner. It’s probably too late to go out now but if you want to come back to mine I’m sure I can rustle up something simple. Nothing quite as fancy as you were expecting I’m afraid.”

“Please do not worry yourself over it. It is all taken care of.” His fiancée assured him. Forestalling any form of protest he continued, “You have been working hard and I would hate for you to have to labour over a warm meal. Let us retire to my house, eat and go to bed. Perhaps there will be fresh evidence for you to look at in the morning.”

“It is unlikely, but we’ll see.” That was the only response he got from the policeman, emphasising to him how worn out the other man was. The rest of the car ride passed in silence, until they were pulling into the driveway of Mycroft’s home.


	2. Phonecall in the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some domestic fluff!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone, thanks for reading this so far. I didn't get any comments for the first chapter. Don't know if that means people aren't interested in this story? Do let me know if you think this is worth continuing or not. I'm enjoying writing it but if it doesn't work for people I might have a go at some of my other ideas instead :)

The next morning Greg was woken far too early by the ringing of Mycroft’s phone. Sadly this was becoming a familiar occurrence- only to get more familiar when they moved in together after the wedding. Though where they would live had yet to be discussed. Would he move in with Mycroft- after all he was practically living there now with half his clothes in the wardrobe. In any case he could hardly imagine Mycroft moving into his small flat. Maybe they could sell both of the their places and buy somewhere new- as long as they both stayed close enough to Westminster. He closed his eyes and rolled over- it was far too early in the morning to worry about such things.

‘Mycroft Holmes.’ He heard Mycroft sigh.

‘And you think this is urgent enough to ring me at four in the morning?’ Greg was glad he wasn’t on the other end of the phone. When Mycroft was in work mood his anger was enough to make in the bravest members of her Majesty’s Armed Forces run away in terror. 

‘What do you expect me to do about it? I only hold a minor position in the British government.’ From the look on Mycroft’s face the snort of laughter Gregory had made at that statement had not been the right thing to do.

‘What evidence are you basing this on?’

‘I would have hoped you would have more to go on than that before you rang me at this time of the morning.’

‘If that is ever the case I will gladly meet with you to discuss it.’

‘Yes, goodbye Reynolds’. He hung up the phone and tiredly rubbed his eyes. 

‘Are you all right Myc?’ Greg asked, slowly rubbing his back.

‘Yes my dear, I am sorry that woke you as well. I like to think they can manage without me for a few hours without panicking over the smallest detail.’

‘Is everything all right?’ He asked tentatively.

‘Yes, nothing that could not have waited until I went into work, or even the day after or the day after that. We still have a few more hours before we need to wake up. Let us not worry ourselves with it now’. Greg recognised that tone. It meant that the situation was not all right but that Mycroft was either trying not to burden the other man, or was not at liberty to discuss it with him.

Greg knew that there were many aspects of Mycroft’s work that he couldn’t share with him and he didn’t mind, not really. He wasn’t technically allowed to tell Mycroft about the details of his police work and he stuck with it when he could but somehow his fiancée always seemed to know regardless. He was determined not to let it get to him though.

‘Or we could always…’ Greg let the sentence trail off.

‘Whatever are you suggesting my dear?’ Mycroft turned to face his partner- his blush clearly visible even though the room was dark.

‘Well I was just thinking that here I am lying awake and there you are lying awake beside me. We’ve only got a short time until we need to be up and I could think of many more interesting ways to pass the time than sleeping.’ Greg leaned over to run his hand under his partner’s pyjama top, smiling softly at the way he always wore a matching set of striped pyjamas. Only Myc. They were so soft, clearly very expensive, but he was more interested in what lay underneath.

‘Indeed? Were you perhaps considering a game of chess?’ He asked with a teasing smile.

‘Well I have been meaning to try out my King’s Indian attack’. He continued his exploration, moving his hand down to beneath Mycroft’s pyjama bottoms.

‘An impressive opening.’ Mycroft acknowledged. 

‘My thoughts exactly.’ 

Mycroft let out a delighted chuckle and moved his mouth up to Greg’s. The pace suddenly quickened as he removed his fiancee’s t-shirt and boxers, surrendering his pyjamas in the process. As their bodies moved together Greg was overcome by a strong surge of emotion. This man was his and had chosen to spend the rest of his life with him. He was loved just as he loved this amazing, intelligent, perfect man. He leaned down to cover Mycroft’s chest in a wave of kisses, desperately trying to convey to the other man how beautiful and perfect he was. When they finally reached their climax there was little energy left for cleaning themselves up and they soon drifted into a contented slumber.   
\--  
The next morning they fell casually into their morning routines. Greg trying to convince Mycroft to eat something before he left for work and Mycroft tried to convince Greg to wear a tie.

‘I don’t suit ties- you know that. I’m fine in a suit and shirt.’

‘But Gregory, a tie completes the suit.’ In the end Greg always let Mycroft ‘win’ the argument and pick one of his own expensive ties for Greg to wear. He’d tie it as well which involved standing very close to his fiancée and much more brushing of his face than he thought it would normally require. In exchange Mycroft would pick up a piece of toast or a Danish pastry from a selection ordered from a high class patisserie to eat on his journey to work. They both knew that Mycroft would rarely eat them and Greg would remove his tie before reaching Scotland Yard but neither commented on this.

‘Have a good day Myc. Will you be around for dinner?’ He leaned up to kiss his fiancée goodbye.

‘I hope to be but I must confess it seems unlikely. Perhaps it would be best to reschedule yesterday’s meal for tomorrow night- if that fits in with you?’ 

‘That will be fine. I’m sure our discussion can wait another day.’ The meal had been arranged to begin wedding planning- something they still hadn’t managed to properly start. 

‘I look forward to it. Have a good day my dear.’

‘You too love.’

Sitting in one of Mycroft’s black cars and sipping the last of his coffee Greg felt ready to start the day. They often shared a car; there workplaces being close together, but today Mycroft had to visit an embassy on the other side of the city. Hearing his phone beep he saw he already had a text from Mycroft. Smiling he opened it but upon reading ‘I apologise in advance for my brother’ the smile quickly turned to a frown. Oh well- with no cases for Sherlock in a week he supposed it had to happen sooner than later.


End file.
